_ Superintendent Mansus had a little office in Scotland Yard proper,
which, he complained, was not so much a private bureau, as a
waiting-room to which repaired every official of the police
service who found time hanging on his hands. On the afternoon of
Miss Holland's surprising adventure, a plainclothes man of "D"
Division brought to Mr. Mansus's room a very scared domestic
servant, voluble, tearful and agonizingly penitent. It was a mood
not wholly unfamiliar to a police officer of twenty years
experience and Mr. Mansus was not impressed.
"If you will kindly shut up," he said, blending his natural
politeness with his employment of the vernacular, "and if you will
also answer a few questions I will save you a lot of trouble. You
were Lady Bartholomew's maid weren't you?"
"Yes, sir," sobbed the red-eyed Mary Ann.
"And you have been detected trying to pawn a gold bracelet, the
property of Lady Bartholomew?"
The maid gulped, nodded and started breathlessly upon a recital of
her wrongs.
"Yes, sir - but she practically gave it to me, sir, and I haven't
had my wages for two months, sir, and she can give that foreigner
thousands and thousands of pounds at a time, sir, but her poor
servants she can't pay - no, she can't. And if Sir William knew
especially about my lady's cards and about the snuffbox, what
would he think, I wonder, and I'm going to have my rights, for if
she can pay thousands to a swell like Mr. Kara she can pay me
and - "
Mansus jerked his head.
"Take her down to the cells," he said briefly, and they led her
away, a wailing, woeful figure of amateur larcenist.
In three minutes Mansus was with T. X. and had reduced the girl's
incoherence to something like order.
"This is important," said T. X.; "produce the Abigail."
"The - ?" asked the puzzled officer.
"The skivvy - slavey - hired help - get busy," said T. X.
impatiently.
They brought her to T. X. in a condition bordering upon collapse.
"Get her a cup of tea," said the wise chief. "Sit down, Mary Ann,
and forget all your troubles."
"Oh, sir, I've never been in this position before," she began, as
she flopped into the chair they put for her.
"Then you've had a very tiring time," said T. X. "Now listen - "
"I've been respectable - "
"Forget it!" said T. X., wearily. "Listen! If you'll tell me
the whole truth about Lady Bartholomew and the money she paid to
Mr. Kara - "
"Two thousand pounds - two separate thousand and by all accounts-"
"If you will tell me the truth, I'll compound a felony and let you
go free."
It was a long time before he could prevail upon her to clear her
speech of the ego which insisted upon intruding. There were gaps
in her narrative which he bridged. In the main it was a
believable story. Lady Bartholomew had lost money and had
borrowed from Kara. She had given as security, the snuffbox
presented to her husband's father, a doctor, by one of the Czars
for services rendered, and was "all blue enamel and gold, and
foreign words in diamonds." On the question of the amount Lady
Bartholomew had borrowed, Abigail was very vague. All that she
knew was that my lady had paid back two thousand pounds and that
she was still very distressed ("in a fit" was the phrase the girl
used), because apparently Kara refused to restore the box.
There had evidently been terrible scenes in the Bartholomew
menage, hysterics and what not, the principal breakdown having
occurred when Belinda Mary came home from school in France.
"Miss Bartholomew is home then. Where is she?" asked T. X.
Here the girl was more vague than ever. She thought the young
lady had gone back again, anyway Miss Belinda had been very much
upset. Miss Belinda had seen Dr. Williams and advised that her
mother should go away for a change.
"Miss Belinda seems to be a precocious young person," said T. X.
"Did she by any chance see Mr. Kara?"
"Oh, no," explained the girl. "Miss Belinda was above that sort
of person. Miss Belinda was a lady, if ever there was one."
"And how old is this interesting young woman?" asked T. X.
curiously.
"She is nineteen," said the girl, and the Commissioner, who had
pictured Belinda in short plaid frocks and long pigtails, and had
moreover visualised her as a freckled little girl with thin legs
and snub nose, was abashed.
He delivered a short lecture on the sacred rights of property,
paid the girl the three months' wages which were due to her - he
had no doubt as to the legality of her claim - and dismissed her
with instructions to go back to the house, pack her box and clear
out.
After the girl had gone, T. X. sat down to consider the position.
He might see Kara and since Kara had expressed his contrition and
was probably in a more humble state of mind, he might make
reparation. Then again he might not. Mansus was waiting and T.
X. walked back with him to his little office.
"I hardly know what to make of it," he said in despair.
"If you can give me Kara's motive, sir, I can give you a
solution," said Mansus.
T. X. shook his head.
"That is exactly what I am unable to give you," he said.
He perched himself on Mansus's desk and lit a cigar.
"I have a good mind to go round and see him," he said after a
while.
"Why not telephone to him?" asked Mansus. "There is his 'phone
straight into his boudoir."
He pointed to a small telephone in a corner of the room.
"Oh, he persuaded the Commissioner to run the wire, did he?" said
T. X. interested, and walked over to the telephone.
He fingered the receiver for a little while and was about to take
it off, but changed his mind.
"I think not," he said, "I'll go round and see him to-morrow. I
don't hope to succeed in extracting the confidence in the case of
Lady Bartholomew, which he denied me over poor Lexman."
"I suppose you'll never give up hope of seeing Mr. Lexman again,"
smiled Mansus, busily arranging a new blotting pad.
Before T. X. could answer there came a knock at the door, and a
uniformed policeman, entered. He saluted T. X.
"They've just sent an urgent letter across from your office, sir.
I said I thought you were here."
Ht handed the missive to the Commissioner. T. X. took it and
glanced at the typewritten address. It was marked "urgent" and
"by hand." He took up the thin, steel, paper-knife from the desk
and slit open the envelope. The letter consisted of three or four
pages of manuscript and, unlike the envelope, it was handwritten.
"My dear T. X.," it began, and the handwriting was familiar.
Mansus, watching the Commissioner, saw the puzzled frown gather on
his superior's forehead, saw the eyebrows arch and the mouth open
in astonishment, saw him hastily turn to the last page to read the
signature and then
"Howling apples!" gasped T. X. "It's from John Lexman!"
His hand shook as he turned the closely written pages. The letter
was dated that afternoon. There was no other address than
"London."
"My dear T. X.," it began, "I do not doubt that this letter will
give you a little shock, because most of my friends will have
believed that I am gone beyond return. Fortunately or
unfortunately that is not so. For myself I could wish - but I am
not going to take a very gloomy view since I am genuinely pleased
at the thought that I shall be meeting you again. Forgive this
letter if it is incoherent but I have only this moment returned
and am writing at the Charing Cross Hotel. I am not staying here,
but I will let you have my address later. The crossing has been a
very severe one so you must forgive me if my letter sounds a
little disjointed. You will be sorry to hear that my dear wife is
dead. She died abroad about six months ago. I do not wish to
talk very much about it so you will forgive me if I do not tell
you any more.
"My principal object in writing to you at the moment is an
official one. I suppose I am still amenable to punishment and I
have decided to surrender myself to the authorities to-night. You
used to have a most excellent assistant in Superintendent Mansus,
and if it is convenient to you, as I hope it will be, I will
report myself to him at 10.15. At any rate, my dear T. X., I do
not wish to mix you up in my affairs and if you will let me do
this business through Mansus I shall be very much obliged to you.
"I know there is no great punishment awaiting me, because my
pardon was apparently signed on the night before my escape. I
shall not have much to tell you, because there is not much in the
past two years that I would care to recall. We endured a great
deal of unhappiness and death was very merciful when it took my
beloved from me.
"Do you ever see Kara in these days?
"Will you tell Mansus to expect me at between ten and half-past,
and if he will give instructions to the officer on duty in the
hall I will come straight up to his room.
"With affectionate regards, my dear fellow, I am, "Yours
sincerely,
"JOHN LEXMAN."
T. X. read the letter over twice and his eyes were troubled.
"Poor girl," he said softly, and handed the letter to Mansus. "He
evidently wants to see you because he is afraid of using my
friendship to his advantage. I shall be here, nevertheless."
"What will be the formality?" asked Mansus.
"There will be no formality," said the other briskly. "I will
secure the necessary pardon from the Home Secretary and in point
of fact I have it already promised, in writing."
He walked back to Whitehall, his mind fully occupied with the
momentous events of the day. It was a raw February evening, sleet
was falling in the street, a piercing easterly wind drove even
through his thick overcoat. In such doorways as offered
protection from the bitter elements the wreckage of humanity which
clings to the West end of London, as the singed moth flutters
about the flame that destroys it, were huddled for warmth.
T. X. was a man of vast human sympathies.
All his experience with the criminal world, all his
disappointments, all his disillusions had failed to quench the
pity for his unfortunate fellows. He made it a rule on such
nights as these, that if, by chance, returning late to his office
he should find such a shivering piece of jetsam sheltering in his
own doorway, he would give him or her the price of a bed.
In his own quaint way he derived a certain speculative excitement
from this practice. If the doorway was empty he regarded himself
as a winner, if some one stood sheltered in the deep recess which
is a feature of the old Georgian houses in this historic
thoroughfare, he would lose to the extent of a shilling.
He peered forward through the semi-darkness as he neared the door
of his offices.
"I've lost," he said, and stripped his gloves preparatory to
groping in his pocket for a coin.
Somebody was standing in the entrance, but it was obviously a very
respectable somebody. A dumpy, motherly somebody in a seal-skin
coat and a preposterous bonnet.
"Hullo," said T. X. in surprise, "are you trying to get in here?"
"I want to see Mr. Meredith," said the visitor, in the mincing
affected tones of one who excused the vulgar source of her
prosperity by frequently reiterated claims to having seen better
days.
"Your longing shall be gratified," said T. X. gravely.
He unlocked the heavy door, passed through the uncarpeted passage
- there are no frills on Government offices - and led the way up
the stairs to the suite on the first floor which constituted his
bureau.
He switched on all the lights and surveyed his visitor, a
comfortable person of the landlady type.
"A good sort," thought T. X., "but somewhat overweighted with
lorgnettes and seal-skin."
"You will pardon my coming to see you at this hour of the night,"
she began deprecatingly, "but as my dear father used to say, 'Hopi
soit qui mal y pense.'"
"Your dear father being in the garter business?" suggested T. X.
humorously. "Won't you sit down, Mrs.- "
"Mrs. Cassley," beamed the lady as she seated herself. "He was in
the paper hanging business. But needs must, when the devil
drives, as the saying goes."
"What particular devil is driving you, Mrs. Cassley?" asked T.
X., somewhat at a loss to understand the object of this visit.
"I may be doing wrong," began the lady, pursing her lips, "and two
blacks will never make a white."
"And all that glitters is not gold," suggested T. X. a little
wearily. "Will you please tell me your business, Mrs. Cassley? I
am a very hungry man."
"Well, it's like this, sir," said Mrs. Cassley, dropping her
erudition, and coming down to bedrock homeliness; "I've got a
young lady stopping with me, as respectable a gel as I've had to
deal with. And I know what respectability is, I might tell you,
for I've taken professional boarders and I have been housekeeper
to a doctor."
"You are well qualified to speak," said T. X. with a smile. "And
what about this particular young lady of yours! By the way what
is your address?"
"86a Marylebone Road," said the lady.
T. X. sat up.
"Yes?" he said quickly. "What about your young lady?"
"She works as far as I can understand," said the loquacious
landlady, "with a certain Mr. Kara in the typewriting line. She
came to me four months ago."
"Never mind when she came to you," said T. X. impatiently. "Have
you a message from the lady?"
"Well, it's like this, sir," said Mrs. Cassley, leaning forward
confidentially and speaking in the hollow tone which she had
decided should accompany any revelation to a police officer, "this
young lady said to me, 'If I don't come any night by 8 o'clock you
must go to T. X. and tell him - '!"
She paused dramatically.
"Yes, yes," said T. X. quickly, "for heaven's sake go on, woman."
"'Tell him,'" said Mrs. Cassley, "'that Belinda Mary - ' "
He sprang to his feet.
"Belinda Mary!" he breathed, "Belinda Mary!" In a flash he saw it
all. This girl with a knowledge of modern Greek, who was working
in Kara's house, was there for a purpose. Kara had something of
her mother's, something that was vital and which he would not part
with, and she had adopted this method of securing that some thing.
Mrs. Cassley was prattling on, but her voice was merely a haze of
sound to him. It brought a strange glow to his heart that Belinda
Mary should have thought of him.
"Only as a policeman, of course," said the still, small voice of
his official self. "Perhaps!" said the human T. X., defiantly.
He got on the telephone to Mansus and gave a few instructions.
"You stay here," he ordered the astounded Mrs. Cassley; "I am
going to make a few investigations."
Kara was at home, but was in bed. T. X. remembered that this
extraordinary man invariably went to bed early and that it was his
practice to receive visitors in this guarded room of his. He was
admitted almost at once and found Kara in his silk dressing-gown
lying on the bed smoking. The heat of the room was unbearable
even on that bleak February night.
"This is a pleasant surprise," said Kara, sitting up; "I hope you
don't mind my dishabille."
T. X. came straight to the point.
"Where is Miss Holland!" he asked.
"Miss Holland?" Kara's eyebrows advertised his astonishment.
"What an extraordinary question to ask me, my dear man! At her
home, or at the theatre or in a cinema palace - I don't know how
these people employ their evenings."
"She is not at home," said T. X., "and I have reason to believe
that she has not left this house."
"What a suspicious person you are, Mr. Meredith!" Kara rang the
bell and Fisher came in with a cup of coffee on a tray.
"Fisher," drawled Kara. "Mr. Meredith) is anxious to know where
Miss Holland is. Will you be good enough to tell him, you know
more about her movements than I do."
"As far as I know, sir," said Fisher deferentially, "she left the
house about 5.30, her usual hour. She sent me out a little before
five on a message and when I came back her hat and her coat had
gone, so I presume she had gone also."
"Did you see her go?" asked T. X.
The man shook his head.
"No, sir, I very seldom see the lady come or go. There has been
no restrictions placed upon the young lady and she has been at
liberty to move about as she likes. I think I am correct in
saying that, sir," he turned to Kara.
Kara nodded.
"You will probably find her at home."
He shook his finger waggishly at T. X.
"What a dog you are," he jibed, "I ought to keep the beauties of
my household veiled, as we do in the East, and especially when I
have a susceptible policeman wandering at large."
T. X. gave jest for jest. There was nothing to be gained by
making trouble here. After a few amiable commonplaces he took his
departure. He found Mrs. Cassley being entertained by Mansus with
a wholly fictitious description of the famous criminals he had
arrested.
"I can only suggest that you go home," said T. X. "I will send a
police officer with you to report to me, but in all probability
you will find the lady has returned. She may have had a
difficulty in getting a bus on a night like this."
A detective was summoned from Scotland Yard and accompanied by him
Mrs. Cassley returned to her domicile with a certain importance.
T. X. looked at his watch. It was a quarter to ten.
"Whatever happens, I must see old Lexman," he said. "Tell the
best men we've got in the department to stand by for
eventualities. This is going to be one of my busy days." _